On a Clear Winter Night: An Irin Chronicles Short Story by Elizabeth Hunter

Chapter One

    AVA LEANED INTO THE SOFA, shifting the unwieldy bulk of her eight-months-pregnant body farther into the embroidered cushions that decorated the couch. Malachi’s eyes were trained on the television in a corner of the room, the black and white image glowing in the dim sitting room. The fire crackled in the hearth and early snow fell outside the window. A peaceful scene. Idyllic on a cold winter night.  
    But the jostling in her belly was just a bit much.
    “Calm down in there,” she muttered.
    Malachi’s hand drifted over to her, running a comforting hand down her arm and then lower over the swell of her stomach. He lifted the edge of her wool sweater and laid his skin against hers.
    Instant relief.
    The pulse of his power flowed over her like a warm wave. Spreading from her abdomen and up her torso, she felt her body calm, then the ache eased. The tension in her belly relaxed and the jostling slowed down.
    She heard the last of the old dialogue on the classic Christmas film fade out and Malachi heaved a sigh.
    “Really?” he said.
    “What?” She blinked at him innocently. “Didn’t they teach you that at the scribe academy? Everyone knows that every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings. Common knowledge, Mal.”
    He tried not to smile, but she saw the peek of his dimple through the beard he’d been growing since they arrived in the old farmhouse outside of Prague.
    “You’re ridiculous.” He swung his legs up and stretched out, resting his head in her ever-shrinking lap. Then he turned his head to the side, lifted her shirt, and pressed a kiss to her belly.
    Beautiful man. Ava’s heart felt like it could burst when he did things like that. And he did. Often.
    All Irin men were tactile by nature, feeding off the energy Irin women contained. They couldn’t touch the humans they protected without hurting them. Touch was reserved for family, friends, and lovers, and before he’d met Ava, Malachi hadn’t felt an Irina touch in hundreds of years. Since then, he’d been making up for it.
    And once she’d gotten pregnant…  
    Well, if she hadn’t derived so much mental ease from physical contact, she’d have been tempted to call him clingy. He was constantly with her. Leaving him to visit the small market in the village or run into the city with some of her Irina sisters was almost impossible. Malachi didn’t want Ava out of his sight.
    But the Irina needed Irin men just as much. The energy Malachi drew from her with his touch allowed Ava’s mind to rest. Before she’d met him, she’d been a case study in anxiety. Socially isolated. Jittery. The energy she’d built up in her system, believing herself only human, had slowly been driving her insane.  
    Ava would never reject her mate’s touch. They were, as bonded mates, truly two halves of one whole. And soon they’d be adding to their small family. Before Malachi, Ava never thought being a mother was even a possibility.
    He glanced up and saw the tears in her eyes. “What is it?”
    “You know me. I cry at the drop of a hat these days.” She shook her head. “Nothing to worry about. Happy.”
    He reached an intricately tattooed arm to touch her face. “If they are only happy tears, that is acceptable.”
    “Acceptable, huh?”
    “Yes.” He pinched her chin. “I am your mate. Anything other than total happiness is unacceptable.”
    “We need to talk about your dictator voice, Mal.”
    The front door blew open and a booming voice filled the room. “Hello!” Bruno said with a shout. “It’s almost as cold as home out there!”
    Almost everything that Bruno said was a shout. The giant scribe had moved from his homeland in Scandinavia to start the haven outside of Prague with his mate Karen and several other Irina singers from the disbanded haven in Norway. He’d been less than happy with the “dreaded warm weather” in Bohemia. The light snowfall reddened his cheeks and made him look like a child with a new